


pull my hair and choke me

by notalotgoingon



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Adorable Sykkuno, Hair, It’s just about hair, M/M, Protective Corpse, Wrote this in 30 minutes, little to no plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:15:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27906574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notalotgoingon/pseuds/notalotgoingon
Summary: Sykkuno really likes Corpse’s hair. And vice versa.
Relationships: Corpse Husband/Sykkuno (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 19
Kudos: 738





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Credit to Petra for the title! Also thanks to Syphus and Anita for their suggestions! And if Corpse or Sykkuno ever states they do not like stories like this being written about them, I will take this down. Um enjoy? :)

It started totally innocently, Sykkuno will swear up and down that it did. It began with crushing curiousity, as all things tend to do. He was fine with Corpse hiding his face and actually greatly respected the choice, sometimes nearly wishing his identity wasn’t so wildly available to the general public with a few clicks and a Google search. But he had to know what his hair looked like. Corpse made no qualms about complimenting his fluffy head of black locks, and Sykkuno just had to beg the question of whether or not this infatuation with his hair was in comparison to his own, a wish for something better, or merely acknowledging a similar gorgeous feature. He had to find out. 

So after a few agonizingly painful days of waiting to see if the topic came up- which it did, Sykkuno just got nervous and dropped the ball- Corpse eventually noticed, even over voice chat or FaceTime, how his new friend tensed up at the mention of hair. Did it trigger him? Was he embarrassed by it? He wondered, caring so deeply for Sykkuno’s mental state that he would never utter another word regarding the subject if it ever hurt him like that. So he simply stopped mentioning it altogether. He kept his admiration of dark tresses to himself in order to see the man smile cheerfully instead of pensively frown.

But eventually, Sykkuno missed the daily reminders of how soft his hair was imagined to be. He wasn’t insecure about that attribute of himself, nor did he crave the attention, but it was nice to hear the affirmations once in a while. He garnered the courage to pose the question weighing on his mind.

“Why...uh, why don’t you ever talk about my hair anymore?”

Taken aback, Corpse replied, “I didn’t think you liked me saying stuff like that. You always get really nervous when I do.”

It clicked in Sykkuno’s mind, “Oh, oh! No, I just really, um, wanna see yours. You know ’cause you’ve seen mine. And I-”

“Say no more.”

“Wha-What?”

A beat passed before Corpse’s voice returned, “Check your messages.”

There it was: the object of overwhelming interest that had consumed his thoughts, even his dreams, for so long. A single strand of curly hand held in the palm of the hand that had captivated so many from all across the world. Perhaps, Sykkuno realized later, it was the same strand that dominated his Twitter timeline and Instagram the next week. He focused on the curl at the the very end. It was dark and curly, and all Sykkuno could do was imagine a whole mass of identical strands, belonging to the most beautiful, wonderful being in the whole world. Instead of sating his curiousity, the picture only intensified it.

“More,” he demanded, although he never demanded or rudely asked for anything from Corpse, much less pictures of his hair.

Bemused by his forward request, he countered, “I can’t yank out all my hair for you. You know I would if you really wanted...but then I’d be bald.”

“I’d still like you,” Sykkuno rushed to assure him but then regretted sounding so “simp-like” with his proclamation and tried to rectify the statement, even though he kind of failed (miserably), “I mean, of-of course I’ll still like you, even if you’re bald now...which you aren’t, right, because you sent me a picture of your hair. Just now. Right. Uh.”

Corpse held back a chuckle, “Yeah. I have hair, don’t worry.”

Sykkuno’s hopes were a bit dashed at that point, and he held in a sigh of defeat, under the impression that he would never see his hair.

“Here,” Corpse stated, preparing to go where no Corpse had gone before. He moved the camera, focusing not on his face, but on the very top. 

“Wow.”

Sykkuno had never seen more than a blank screen when he FaceTimed Corpse. This was so much better than a single strand. He was nearly speechless. This was an entire forest of luscious, black or maybe brown tresses that flowed together in a way that could only be described with one word.

“Wow,” he repeated. 

A giggle could be heard from below, “Yeah, I guess. Um, you like it?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Cool.”

Needless to say, Sykkuno took multiple mental pictures due to lack of forethought that he should rely on something more permanent than memory.

As their relationship grew and stregthened like an infant sapling gaining new roots in foreign soil it was not yet accustomed to, so did Sykkuno’s preoccupation with his partner’s hair. He liked it. It wasn’t just a passing fancy; nay, it was an obsession. Sometimes, he would ask him over just to press the pads of his fingers against soft curls. Corpse would nudge back with his head like a kitten. It became their thing.

He liked to pick one patch and softly comb it until the whole head was fluffy and perfect. It was already perfect in Sykkuno’s eyes, of course. Corpse liked it too. He wasn’t overly confident or proud at all, really, of his appearance. He was truly surprised that someone had taken an interest in what he thought was just lackluster at best, especially when that someone had been blessed with hair twenty times as interesting as his own.

That brings us to the other side of the coin. One of the first things Corpse noticed about Sykkuno, besides his friendly tone and the fun, upbeat yet calm atmosphere he could create with a few simple words, was his hair. It was soft, well-maintained, and pretty, so pretty. He wanted to pet it or brush it or just be in the same room as it. He wanted to see it in all forms: freshly washed and dried, still wet and dripping, windswept but always, always attractive, and dry, tangled even just so Corpse could massage out the knots. It was just that his anxiety drifted away in pools of calming energy whenever Sykkuno lifted his head to meet Corpse’s fingers. He loved it so much he wanted to place a crown on his head, declare him prince of everything, everyone, and everywhere. Most of all, he wondered how it would feel in his hands while he held and carefully handled every piece, no matter how odd that desire might seem.

So the first time Sykkuno saw him in person, he did just that. He swept aside his bangs, just like he preferred, cuddled his head close to his chest. He grinned, a display of affection only Sykkuno had ever been privy to. 

“You’ve got the best hair,” he murmured, peacefully reclining on the couch as the last scene of a show played out before them; though they really couldn’t have cared less about the ending, too distracted they were by each other’s warmth and love.

“No you,” Sykkuno smiled back, “I like yours better.”

So they let it be at that because who really was going to argue when they could both agree that their infatuation with each other’s locks was unmatched.

Then Corpse discovered a new thing he could do, and thus, he had undeniable proof that Sykkuno’s hair was the absolute best, no contest. Because...wait for it. He could pull it. It was mindblowing, silky locks practically floating against his calloused palms, up and down like waves as he cradled the strands like newborn children. He tugged close to the scalp to lead him to the direction that would allow him better access to his porcelain neck. He marked it with patterns and bruised patches that would be impossible to cover up, but neither cared when Corpse started tugging, and Sykkuno said such pretty things that had the desired effect of spurring him on more. It didn’t even have to be hard yanking. It didn't even matter whether or not Corpse's other hand was gripped against his hip, holding him to the counter or couch or wherever or rather caressing his cheek wholesomely or even wrapped around his neck, pulsing in satisfaction. It did matter that whenever Corpse found that special pull that would bring Sykkuno to a point of mewling, he felt such an intense urge to confess his love like a member of a church congregation. All that mattered was the connection between the two, the grip on Sykkuno’s locks, the way they could hold each other so sweetly nobody else could ever come close to sharing those intimate moments with either again.

Sykkuno would fiddle with Corpse’s hair all the time, too. He combed it with his fingers in the early morning hours, the time when even the sun slept through its alarm. He massaged the scalp when Corpse returned from a hard doctor’s appointment or strained his voice as he rushed to prepare new music for his fans. Corpse claimed his talented fingers helped him a lot through the troubles of life like when his merch got delayed or he needed reassurance that the internet wouldn’t turn against him for a few days of not uploading or streaming or tweeting. He'd stroke his head while he played video games or complained about Starbucks getting his order wrong. (It's so simple, I mean three calculated drops of vanilla syrup topping off a perfect mix of black coffee and creamer with no foam, caramel, or fat is not too much to ask, right?) Sykkuno could play with the strands near his ear while they ate dinner or cuddled or did anything, really. Corpse's nerves were calmed, and Sykkuno finally got free, unrestricted access to the lovely curls. It wasn’t just an obsession or something to get off on, it was a bond that would never break.


	2. the hair saga continues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sykkuno is self-conscious about his hair after people on stream don’t appreciate it. Corpse convinces him to like it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This implicating a relationship between real people, will take down immediately if Corpse or Sykkuno says they don’t like stories written about them. Also! Sykkuno’s new hair is beautiful ok. And I’m not exactly wild about this chapter, just thought it might be a nice addition.

“No, Sykkuno, I love your hair. You stop that right now,” Corpse’s voice was close to breaking, despite his urges to keep it steady. Something about Sykkuno’s self doubt did that to him, made him so vulnerable. He felt like a mirror with someone’s fist through it, so close to the point of breaking, and all it would take would be a slight change or movement, and he’d crumble, clatter to the ground like a shattered clay pot.

“B-but they said it’s not good. I know it’s not styled, and it looks bad,” he rambled on, cutting himself off eventually.

Corpse’s hand shook. He had never been good at comforting people. Sure, he could express how he felt, but that was mainly in the form of lyrics backed by loud, aggressive bass and intense screaming. He wasn’t blessed with the knack for making everyone in the near vicinity feel completely at peace and happy. That’s Sykkuno’s talent. 

“You look fine, I promise.”

“You don’t miss the poofy hair?” He mumbled, picking at his nails and cuddling his favorite pillow.

“Do you?”

“A little bit. I mean, I don’t know.”

“Well, I like you no matter what. You know that. I promise that no matter what, your hair of all things doesn’t change my opinion of you.”

“But-”

“No,” Corpse stopped his objections, “you are perfect. So what if twenty random people on the internet preferred your old hair style? Your real fans will always like you for you.”

Sykkuno fell so quiet, it almost seemed like Corpse was talking to himself. His soft, sometimes choked up from sobs, breathing was no longer there to comfort him. He wondered if he’d hung up accidentally. But then his lovely, sweet voice returned to grace his (in his opinion) undeserving ears.

“Um...I’ll think about it.”

Corpse slept with the weight of the world on his shoulders. He woke up at five o’clock like a bundle of wires connected to a bomb, ready to explode. His recommendations on YouTube were filled with videos with clickbait titles and thumbnails, all related to Sykkuno. Twitter was teeming with users that tagged him in footage of Sykkuno’s livestream from the night before. They showcased him progressively getting more bothered by the topic of his new haircut. The people seemed to want him to do something about the situation, but he rolled his eyes: he had tried. But he convinced himself to do more, whatever he could do to boost Sykkuno’s self confidence.

The next day, Sykkuno streamed again. Corpse wasn’t about to let a few internet trolls hurt such a precious, pure human being that had done absolutely nothing to deserve their scorn. Especially when that person was Sykkuno who was about as pure and amazing and wonderful as a human could possibly seek to be.

“You’re so handsome,” Sykkuno read off his screen while maneuvering his character through a forest, “thanks guys. You know, the good comments do help a bit.”

A few minutes later, another few stray words from the chat angered Corpse, so he wrote a strongly worded message directed at them that he was glad Sykkuno’s eyes passed over. He wouldn’t have liked it, even if it was only to defend him, and besides, he really did not want to hear a lecture about attacking people on the internet, even when they totally deserved it. Nobody made Sykkuno feel bad with Corpse around.

Soon, some other joined in with him. Phrases like, “Love the short hair,” “K-pop comeback,” “You hair is tooo cute,” and “You look adorable,” overrode the negativity. Corpse relaxed in his seat: his job was done. Sykkuno’s smile was left uncovered as he read out subs and donations from protective fans who followed Corpse’s lead in defending the new haircut. Eventually, the wave of hair comments subsided, and the chat was filled with fun references, the average backseat gaming commands, and showers of positivity for the kind, beautiful streamer. 

It didn’t even matter to Corpse that he couldn’t pull lovingly on the long locks anymore. He could find other ways to please Sykkuno, and hair would always grow back. Sure, he’d miss brushing aside strands as they ate dinner, shoulder to shoulder, sometimes nudging the other with their head for attention. And he’d always have a place in his heart for the small, intimate moments shared with one of his hands in Sykkuno’s hair and the other wrapped around his waist, holding him in closely as he explained how much he loved him, everything about him, even the hair he was so determined to hate.

But that didn’t matter. They could find new special things to share. He could still watch admiringly as Sykkuno’s hair shook when he laughed. He could ruffle it in the mid-morning silence when neither had much to do, and neither had anything he wanted to do. He would always love Sykkuno, no matter how he looked; he could only wish that other people, namely the viewers, felt the same.

“Wow,” Sykkuno exclaimed, “thanks for the fifty gift subs, Mr. Corpse, that’s a whole lot of gift subs.”

The chat erupted like it always did when Corpse was mentioned.

“No, guys, I’m sure it’s not the real Corpse,” Sykkuno chuckled, deflecting the rumors, but smiling enigmatically like he knew something they did not. Almost like he knew for certain a “random person on the internet” did not gift him fifty subs and poetically claim his hair as the best in the whole world. But it’s all just superstitions and rumors at the end of the day.


End file.
